Second Debt (Indebted #3)(16)

Nila didn’t speak as I guided her up the massive spiral stone staircase in the east wing. She’d gone peculiarly obedient but lagged behind me; I practically had to drag her.

“Where are you taking me?” Her eyes darted around the second floor as we stepped onto the landing.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Gritting my teeth, I pulled her forward.

“Did a Weaver do those?” she asked, jerking me to a stop to stare at an embroidery of Hawksridge Hall bathed in golden sunlight with wild horses prancing on the front lawn.

“No.”

Her eyes met mine. “Who did then?”

“No one you need to know about.” We moved in testy silence to the large double doors at the end.

“Is this where you sleep? Upstairs, I mean?”

My head whipped to face her. “You’re asking where my quarters are?” Dragging her close, I whispered hotly in her ear. “Why? So you can sneak inside and f*ck me? Or perhaps murder is more on your mind.”

She vibrated with anger. “Like I would tell you.”

My palm itched to strike again. I’d never been a violent person, preferring to intimidate with winter rather than with fists, but goddammit, she made it hard to remember just who I was and what was expected of me.

I’d lost myself.

I’m f*cking floundering.

“Stop asking questions.” Splaying my hand on the doors, I pushed them open.

Her gaze went wide, sweeping around the large space. The solar was masculine in both use and décor, and frankly, rather drab. Heavy oak panels, with carved hawks and feather wreaths, covered the ceiling. The walls were gold-gilded leather, oppressing the space with dark brown while the carpet was blood red.

Slouchy black couches rested in clusters, some by the huge fireplace, and others by the lead-light window. An oversize coffee table took centre place with thick glass imprisoning the bleached bones of my father’s old dog, Wrathbone.

A slow clap filled the space. Daniel smirked, his eyes locking onto Nila. “You didn’t get lost after all. Pity, I’d just volunteered to be the search party.”

My spine locked. Shit, not only had my father decided to be present for this, but he’d invited Kes and Daniel, too. The thought of Daniel seeing me around Nila both enraged and terrified.

He’d always seen how different I was and used my flaws to hurt me.

Nila subtly moved closer to me, never taking her gaze off my younger brother.

So, she hates me but still expects me to protect her.

I wanted to pull away and leave her on her own. She deserved it. But no matter what just happened, she was still mine and with ownership came responsibility. Her welfare was my concern.

“About time you two arrived.” Cut leaned against one of the embossed walls, his posture relaxed. In his hand was a tumbler of cognac. Not even midday and he had hard liquor in his belly. My father wasn’t a drunkard. He would never give up control enough to be under the influence. He just indulged in things he wanted, when he wanted them.

Cut’s gaze went to Nila. “Pleasure to see you, my dear. I heard you’ve recently relocated to the Weaver quarters. How are you finding your new accommodations?”

Her arm jerked beneath my hold, her fingers curling into a fist.

Nila sniffed. “I appreciate a place to work and equipment in which to do it, but if you think I’ll find happiness anywhere in your home, you’re mistaken.”

Cut laughed. “I would suggest you stop lying to yourself. I’ve seen you smiling. I’ve witnessed your contentedness these past few weeks.”

Nila growled low in her chest. “Yes, that was a mistake. And before I saw what I did yesterday.”

Cut pushed off from the wall, throwing back the rest of his cognac. “And what did you see yesterday?” His eyes flickered to mine, glowing with annoyance.

“Nothing to concern you about,” Nila snapped.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She could’ve told him about the graves. She could’ve told him all manner of things that I’d sworn her not to tell. If she wanted me punished, my father would ensure I would pay.

My heart thundered, waiting for her to announce my weakness. The secret of what it meant to both of us when I’d slipped inside her and felt her come around my cock.

She felt it, too.

I know it.

I sucked in a breath, holding on to the faint connection still between us—not ready to submit to our fight—to believe that whatever existed was gone.

“Jethro, are you going to permit your charge to speak to her elders so disrespectfully?”

Shit.

My forehead furrowed at the challenge, the command.

If I was anything like the son Cut had taught me to be, I would force Nila to her knees and teach her better manners. I would hurt her, scold her, and deliver her heartbreak at his feet.

But if I did that, she might reveal my darkest secret. The fact that I’d f*cked her. And that it’d destroyed me.

Cut grunted, “Jet—”

Embracing the cold, I shifted my hold on Nila and grabbed her around the back of the nape. My fingers dug into the tender column of muscle, holding her firm. “Be polite, Ms. Weaver. Drop the insolence and be grateful for all that my family has given you.”

She flinched but didn’t try to break my hold. Glaring at Cut, she said, “Forgive me, Mr. Hawk. What I meant to say was thank you for welcoming me so cordially into hell. I’m so happy to live so close to the devil.”